


Waiting on the Edge of The Abyss

by StardustAndAsh



Series: Of the Rabbit and the Fox [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Here Lies the Abyss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spiders, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustAndAsh/pseuds/StardustAndAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Ëonwë Lavellan can't leave anyone behind. Meanwhile Dorian waits for his Amatus to return to him. </p><p>Essentially I think there should be a third option at the end of Here Lies the Abyss, and Dorian wants his Lavellan to stop throwing himself at creatures he cannot defeat for the sake of others.</p><p>Now with an extra chapter!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ëonwë watched as Dorian, Cole, and Iron Bull sprinted ahead through the distant green rift. Thank the Creators that they managed to get out of the Fade. Ëonwë needed them, especially Dorian, to be safe. That's all he wanted. Maybe he got attached too easily, but how could he not after being apart from clan Lavellan for so long. He needed to be surrounded by people, it was the only way he felt safe. But then again he ended up dragging those same people into deadly situations like this one, straight out of an old tale.

Ëonwë watched as they disappeared through the rift without a glance back. It stung that Dorian wouldn't at least check to see if he was there behind him. Since the Winter Palace they had been growing closer, becoming something more than flirtatious banter and secretive kisses. Now wasn't the time to be pondering his relationship though, he still needed to get Hawke and her Warden friend, Alistair, out of the fade as well. And really, that looked like it was going to be difficult as the Nightmare demon's pet had come back.

Who knows what it actually looked like, but to Ëonwë it looked like the most horrific of spiders. And spiders were pretty damn horrific in the first place. It was huge, with orange skin like a crab's shell and eight huge eyes staring down at them with hunger. Ëonwë could have cried. Always with the spiders.

It's not like the Fade hadn't already been disturbing enough. There was something about the atmosphere that made the magic in Ëonwë's veins spark to life and tingle unpleasantly whenever he cast a spell. He was sure Dorian was feeling it too. The wrongness of this place was overwhelming. It was impossible to tell if his companions were seeing the same things he was. The same eerie rock formations without a hint of something green and growing, the disturbing riddles left on the path they were following, the same cursed spiders that descended on them from thin air. Of course everyone being privy to his memories was also quite upsetting. Ëonwë was glad to have them back but knowing that everyone could see them as well was unsettling. It was an unwanted invasion of privacy. In fact, the only ones he would have gladly shared the memories with in every detail were Cassandra and Leliana. They both had the right to know exactly what happened to Divine Justinia as they were both so close with her. Unlocking the memories had drawn on the power of the Anchor, making his whole arm tingle with the familiar aching numbness that came with the use of the mark's power.

Hawke and Alistair could have made him cry as well, both asking for the Inquisitor's blessing to be the one to distract the giant terrifying spider (or whatever it was they were seeing) while the other two made a break for the rift. Why should anyone be sacrificing themselves for him? He was just a face for the Inquisition after all. Leliana and Cassandra were the driving force of the Inquisition, making all the hard decisions and steering them wherever they wanted. Ëonwë was just the elf with the Anchor, here to close the rifts and smile for the nobles. He couldn't make one of them sacrifice themselves just for his sake. He had to get them both out, and the two of them deliberating about being the noble sacrifice was wasting precious time they needed to escape.

With as much force as his skinny arms could muster her grabbed each of them around the arm and shoved them forwards. The two stumbled in unison. It would have been comical had they not all been in a very dire situation. Without wasting any more time Eonwe blasted the giant spider with a burst of lightning.

"Go, get out of here!" shouted Ëonwë.

Alistair got the message. Hawke was struggling against him, greatsword drawn as Alistair did his best to drag the woman towards the rift.

"What are you doing?" screamed Hawke as she struggled against Alistair. Ëonwë was beginning to understand why Varric held the Champion of Kirkwall in the highest respect.

Ëonwë appreciated the concern, but there was no way that he would let someone as important as the Champion of Kirkwall go up against so fearsome a foe. And a companion of the Hero of Ferelden? No way could he let them attack this thing without getting an earful from someone back at Skyhold.

Ëonwë decided to look past the part where he was essentially doing what they had offered and distracting this thing to let them make an escape. He had magic however, and could at least keep himself far out of range of those creepy but no doubt lethal legs.

Ëonwë dodged backwards over uneven rock. Those legs could stretch and bend at impossible angles, reaching for him, trying to spear him clean through, not so out of range as he had hoped then. All eight of those black soulless eyes were watching his every move. Ëonwë was only half paying attention to the spider. He was more intent on watching Alistair drag Hawke to the rift. Three more steps, two, one, and they were through. Ëonwë let out a breath and the tension from his shoulders. They were safe. Everyone who he had trapped in the fade had made it out, save himself.

The demon had herded him away from the rift though, its huge bulk between Ëonwë and safety. He had to make a run for it, there was no way he was ever going to be able to defeat the Nightmare's pet on his own. Another bolt of thunder and Ëonwë supposed it might be paralyzed for a few seconds. A few seconds was all he needed to bolt past the thing. He gathered the magic, released it, and ran.

 

Dorian waited with baited breath. Never had he cared less about his disheveled appearance in front of so many watching eyes. His hair was in disarray, and the robes that had once been white were now a rather unpleasant mixture of unnatural greens and greys. Not to mention torn in a dozen different places. Lavellan had to be coming. There was no way he was leaving Dorian behind. There was too much left uncertain between them. Dorian hadn't even had the opportunity to apologize for the scene he caused in Val Royeux on the way to Adamant. He knew that he shouldn't have gotten angry at Lavellan, he knew the elf was only trying to help him recover his amulet after he had bitched about selling it. Lavellan had to know that it was Dorian's pride talking, right?

Iron Bull paced beside him. The hulking Quinari looked about as good as Dorian felt. There were tears in his clownish pants and bleeding cuts dusted across his wide torso. But in The Iron Bull's eyes a storm was brewing. Dorian would never challenge Iron Bull to anything if he had that look in his eye (besides maybe a drinking contest in Skyhold's tavern). Cole had long since vanished, the terror spilling out of him even after leaving the fade. Bull however looked ready to jump right back in and drag out his Boss.

Dorian knew that Lavellan hated the nickname Iron Bull had given him, but also that Lavellan was glad that Iron Bull had given him a nickname in the first place. Dorian often wondered how someone who hated being in charge so much ended up being able to lead the Inquisition so well. Of course Lavellan gave all the credit to his advisors, but Dorian saw for himself how effectively Lavellan governed his followers. If only Lavellan was half so good at not making him worry.

The rift pulsated on an irregular beat, sending green light around the destroyed courtyard. The battle out here was over, and Dorian had been sure the battle in the Fade was over as well. So where was his Inquisitor. Even Cullen had somehow found the time to break away from the Inquisitions ranks outside the fortress to come check on the situation within. Dorian watched as the commander walked through the Wardens, pausing to talk with someone every now and then, but always watching the rift.

Without warning, the rift spat out Warden Alistair and the Champion onto the broken cobblestones of the courtyard. Both were no more worse for wear than the last time Dorian saw them inside the Fade, but the Champion was cursing up a storm as Alistair practically dragged her away from the rift. Dorian looked behind them, sure that Lavellan would pop out from behind them, shaking out his long golden hair and looking every inch the leader of the Inquisition. He was so sure, and yet there seemed to be an icy hand gripping his heart. Lavellan wasn't appearing. Dorian was so sure that any second now Lavellan would appear out of the Fade and make some speech to the Wardens, so why wasn't it happening.

"Where is the Inquisitor?" Cullen's voice asked the question Dorian was dying to know the answer to.

Silence reigned over the courtyard. Hawke and Alistair both had guilty looks on their faces. Neither seemed to be able to meet anyone's eyes.

Cullen didn't like their silence.

"I asked you where is the Inquisitor!" Cullen demanded, anger written in the lines of his face.

Dorian felt that same anger burning. Why weren't they answering the question, it was simple enough to say 'So terribly sorry, but your leader is dead and now the whole world is at the mercy of the demons pouring out of the rifts, our bad for leaving him behind'.

Dorian paused in his thoughts. Somehow the idea that Lavellan might be lying dead just beyond the veil hadn't occurred to him until that moment. Oh Maker he hoped that wasn't true.

"The Inquisitor, he-" Alistair started, only to be interrupted by Hawke.

"This is your fault."

"The Inquisitor made his own choice-"

"One of us could have done the same-"

"Enough!" Cullen roared at the two. Lion of Skyhold indeed.

That broke Alistair and Hawke away from their squabbling, both reverting to their guilty looks. Hawke opened her mouth to say something else but her attention, and Dorian's, was brought back to the rift, which pulsed a nasty shade of green, and out of the light stumbled a bloodied figure.

Dorian couldn't breathe as the figure stumbled and fell to their knees. He rushed forward, Iron Bull moving at his side. He knew that silhouette anywhere, his dear Lavellan. Lavellan's long hair, no longer golden for the dirt and grime and blood swept the stones as he hunched over. Before Dorian could reach him Lavellan thrust his left hand into the air and the remaining Wardens were treated to the sight of the rift closing and vanishing with the thunderous boom Dorian had become familiar with on their adventures together. In the next second Dorian was sweeping Lavellan into his arms.

The Inquisitor was not a pretty sight. The usual ruddiness of his cheeks has been leeched away, leaving him papery white, a stark contrast to Dorian's hands as they swept the dirty hair out of Lavellans face. The elf would have a new scar, one to match Cassandra's, from a gash over one of his high cheekbones. Dorian was surprised to see Lavellan's golden eyes staring up at him, watching his face.

"Is it over? Am I back?" Lavellan's voice was no louder than a rustle of paper.

"Yes, Amatus, you made it back," Dorian tried to keep his voice from shaking.

"Is everyone alright?" Lavellan slowly looked about, searching for his companions.

"We're all here Boss," said the Iron Bull from somewhere over Dorian's shoulder.

Distantly Dorian registered that Cullen was calling for a spirit healer from the Warden's ranks. In his arms Lavellan began to feel heavy. Those golden eyes were losing their focus, sliding past Dorian before the elf blinked back up at him. Dorian gently patted his face.

"Come on Amatus, stay awake."

There was a mumbled response.

"What was that?"

"What does that mean? You keep saying it..." Lavellan's voice was no more than a murmur. Dorian had to lean in to hear him.

"I'll tell you when we get back to Skyhold, so you better damn make it back."

The elf's ability to look annoyed even when bleeding out into Dorian's already ruined robes was amazing. But then Cullen was at his side with a Warden mage, taking the Inquisitor from his grasp as the mage began working their magic. Green hands floated over the Inquisitor's side for far too long, and Dorian could see ruined flesh knitting into fresh pink skin. For the amount of injuries or lack of magic the mage only healed each wound until it was no longer bleeding or life threatening before moving on to the next.

"You should be careful, people might think you have feelings for the Boss," Iron Bull said, still just behind Dorian.

Dorian whirled around.

"It's none of your business."

"So there is something going on between you two. Krem owes me a round."

Dorian ground his teeth in frustration.

"Useless. What's the point in having magic if I can't do something so simple. I want to hold him. I shouldn't have yelled."

Apparently Cole had decided to reappear.

"Cole, remember that we shouldn't say these things out loud," Dorian forced out between his clenched teeth.

"But it's odd. He is the one who is injured yet you are in pain. I don't understand."

Cole was now looking at the Inquisitor, so impossibly tiny in Cullen's strong arms.

"I'm not sure he can explain that to you," said Iron Bull.

Together the three watched as Cullen gently lowered the Inquisitor to the ground, removing his furs to make a pillow before striding over to where Hawke and Alistair were standing. A few hushed exchanges were made before Cullen returned to the Inquisitor. The mage finished the last deep cut, one to the Inquisitor's left calf before allowing Cullen to scoop the small elf into his arms. He nodded at Hawke who began to take control of the crowd, allowing for Cullen to carry the Inquisitor away without having the weight of every eye watching them go. Dorian followed Cullen and Lavellan like a lost puppy: trailing them but not knowing what to do with himself. With one ear Dorian listened as Hawke rounded up the remaining Wardens, claiming leadership until such time as the Inquisition decided their fate. Alistair in turn announced that he would be leaving to inform the Wardens as Weisshaupt of the corruption in their ranks and the death of Warden-Commander Clarel. Dorian couldn't care less about the Maker-damned Wardens though, he was far more concerned about the limp body in the commander's arms.


	2. Waking on the Other Side

_With one ear Dorian listened as Hawke rounded up the remaining Wardens, claiming leadership until such time as the Inquisition decided their fate. Alistair in turn announced that he would be leaving to inform the Wardens as Weisshaupt of the corruption in their ranks and the death of Warden-Commander Clarel. Dorian couldn't care less about the Maker-damned Wardens though, he was far more concerned about the limp body in the commander's arms._

Ëonwë's senses came back slowly. First, he was aware of the cloth beneath him. It was soft, but not the familiar softness of his own bed. There was the taste of elfroot in his mouth, a bright earthy note on his tongue.Then he was aware of the hand holding his own. The thumb gently stroking across his knuckles had familiar callouses. Dorian. He was then aware of the voices. Dorian's was there, murmuring in Tevene, but there were others as well. Was he still at Adamant? How long had he been asleep. The next thing Ëonwë became aware of was the pain. His leg hurt, and his side. Ëonwë would not be surprised if his skull was fractured judging by how it felt like a whole team of dwarves had been mining it from the inside out. His breath must have hitched from the pain, because Dorian broke off his quiet murmurs.

"Lavellan?" asked Dorian in a quiet voice.

Ëonwë tried to answer, but all that came out was a dry moan.

"Come on Amatus, open your eyes for me."

He said it so gently, Ëonwë had to try, just for him. It was an effort, but Ëonwë managed to force his sleep-crusted eyelids apart. Dorian was there, looking worried and ragged, though wearing clean robes. Some time must have passed then. Beyond Dorian Ëonwë could see healers, magical and mundane. This place was familiar, and it took Ëonwë's tired brain a few minutes to realize he was in Skyhold's infirmary.

"Lavellan?"

Dorian's question dragged Ëonwë's attention back to him. His mind felt like pea soup and it was hard to concentrate.

"Wa-water?" Ëonwë asked in a raspy voice.

His throat felt like the hot sands of the Western Approach had been poured down it. Dorian was quick to comply to his request, sliding one hand around Ëonwë's shoulders to help ease him upright enough to drink from the cup Dorian held to his lips. Creators did the movement make his side sting, but the water felt wonderful against his throat.

"Thank you," said Ëonwë.

"You should know I absolutely detest playing nursemaid," said Dorian, but without any of the usual bite. The sarcasm was lost behind the worry that tightened his eyes and deepened the lines around his mouth.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Ëonwë let his gaze roll over Dorian again, assuring himself that the man was fine. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and bathed only once in that time, but there were no visible injuries.

"Did you know your library has remarkably little on early Tevinter history?" said Dorian.

Ëonwë only shrugged. Really, he hadn't had time to actually read anything other than reports in months.

"All these gifts to the Inquisition and the best they could do was the Malefica Imperia. Trite propaganda. But if you wanted twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, you need look no further."

"Critiquing every book in my library?" Ëonwë grinned. Of course Dorian would be upset that they only had books with the southerners views on his homeland.

"I wouldn't have to, if you could find some rebellious heretic archivist to join the cause."

"Are there rebellious archivists? Other than you that is."

"If Corypheus ever starts burning masterworks of literature I'm sure a few would pop up."

Ëonwë laughed a little at that, though stopped quickly as a flair of pain burst in his side.

"I think I saw something by Genitivi there," said Dorian, beginning to rise.

Something in the way Dorian said that made Ëonwë think that the mage was yelling at him for something other than the fact that his library was lacking.

"What is this really about, Dorian?"

Dorian sat back down with a heavy sigh.

"When we fell into that castle, into the Fade, I thought you were done for," Dorian couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice, and Ëonwë felt utter guilt at causing that sadness. "I don't know If I can forgive you for that moment."

Ëonwë reached for Dorian's hand.

"I'm here, I'm alive, aren't I?" Ëonwë tried to reassure Dorian.

But Dorian shook off Ëonwë's hand. His face was stony and his eyes burned with emotion.

"You sent me ahead, and then didn't follow. For a moment I was certain you wouldn't. I thought 'this is it, this is where I finally lose him forever'. And then you do stumble out of the Fade, and for a second everything is all right. But you had to go and ruin the moment by bleeding all over the damn courtyard and bring that feeling right back."

Ëonwë felt properly chastised. But it hadn't been his intention to scare Dorian. He'd just wanted to make sure everyone who he dragged into that mess managed to get out of it. Creators, Ëonwë felt his age for the first time in a long time. He'd been playing the Inquisitor for too long, forgetting he was not even properly the first of clan Lavellan, forgetting that he was only a few short moons past his twentieth winter. And here he was, not for the first time, lying injured in a shemlen infirmary with too many people waiting for him to get back up and make life changing decisions for them.

"I'm sorry," offered Ëonwë.

Dorian just leaned down to press a soft kiss to his temple before taking his leave. Ëonwë wasn't sure what to do with that. But then a healer came by with a potion that made everything hurt less and he slipped back into a dreamless sleep.

Before he'd managed to make his escape out of the infirmary, many of the inner circle had been by to visit. Solas had been very curious about the Fade, and asked questions until Ëonwë's head spun and he was chased out by a healer to let Ëonwë get some rest. Blackwall had come to give him an update on the Wardens, Sera had snuck him a berry tart, Krem had been by to thank him for bringing back Iron Bull, and Iron Bull had been surprisingly quiet though winked when Ëonwë asked after Dorian. Dorian hadn't been to see him since Ëonwë woke. Neither had his advisors, though Ëonwë suspected it was because they would prefer him to get a moment of rest before diving back into business. He was bored and frustrated by the fourth day, and despite the healers insisting he stay on bedrest for a little while longer, Ëonwë managed to convince one of them with his famed doe eyes that he was fine to walk around with a crutch. This saw him hobbling around Skyhold, taking stock of morale. Everyone was glad to see their Inquisitor out and about, though the atmosphere in the courtyard was sombre. Even the tavern seemed somewhat subdued, though Ëonwë only glanced in as he made his way to where he spied Cassandra slaughtering training dummies.

"I think he's dead, whoever he is," called Ëonwë.

Cassandra spun around, though lowered her blade.

"Inquisitor! Did the healers say you could be up?"

No, but Ëonwë wasn't about to admit it.

"I'm fine. I'm sure there's a whole host of people waiting to hear my report of what happened in the fade."

Ëonwë just wanted to get the whole nightmare over with so he could move past it, preferably on to mending things with Dorian. Cassandra gave him a knowing smile.

"Luckily for you, we just need to hear the part where you were alone. I'll call the others to the war room, meet us there in half an hour."

Ëonwë nodded.

"And Inquisitor, I am glad you made it back to us."

"Thank you," said Ëonwë.

Half an hour. Just enough time to sneak to the gardens. If he was lucky, he could even avoid being hounded by Mother Giselle. Chantry sermons after just seeing the strange apparition of the Divine? Not something Ëonwë really wanted.

The garden was quiet. Morrigan and her son were there, as usual. Morrigan seemed content to watch Kieran while he investigated the various plants Ëonwë had planted from the seeds he collected on his travels. Movement on the battlements caught his attention. It was Alistair, warden armour shining bright in the pale sunlight. He had something in his arms. Ëonwë watched as he approached Kieran. Morrigan said nothing, though she seemed ready to spring into action.

"Hello, Kieran isn't it?" Alistair greeted cheerfully.

"Yes. Oh! I know who you are."

"Really?" Alistair looked oddly eager, hopeful almost.

"Yes! Mother says you helped her friend slay the archdemon," said Kieran.

It was more excitement than Ëonwë had ever seen from the boy before, but Alistair seemed disappointed by the answer.

"That's right. Anyways, I have it on good authority that your birthday may be soon, and I came to give you this," said Alistair, holding up the basket, which Ëonwë could now see was covered in a wriggling cloth.

"For me?" Kieran took the basket, and gleefully ripped off the cloth to reveal an utterly adorable Mabari puppy.

The dog took one look at the boy, gave a happy bark, and decided that Kieran's face needed the best washing of his young life.

"She'll need a name you know. And don't forget, Mabari are smart, so you should teach her as many tricks as possible."

"Noya," said Kieran.

"What was that?" Alistair looked shocked.

"Noya, like the Hero of Ferelden. Mother talks about her all the time. She says that Noya was fierce and protective for a mage. I think those are good qualities for a Mabari too."

"Noya still is fierce and protective. I think it's a great name," Alistair said.

With that Kieran eagerly ran over to Morrigan to enthusiastically show her his new pet. Ëonwë made a mental note to ask about what had just happened later. For now he was needed in the war room.

The meeting wasn't all that bad. And Josephine, bless her heart, had gotten him a chair. None of them commented when he sank into it gingerly, very aware of all the aches, bruises, and healing wounds still covering his body. From there he launched into his story.

Ëonwë had sent Alistair and Hawke ahead. The rift was close, so close, and he needed to see them leave. But he also had to get past the nightmare as well. So he told the advisors, how he had gathered the magic, and released it, hoping to stun the creature long enough to get a decent head start to the rift. He didn't count on the creature being immune to the stunning effect of his lightning magic. As soon as he had tried to run the thing had sent one of its spiny limbs straight through his side. The monster had retracted it, thank the creators, but the force had knocked him to his knees. The next blow had been to his head. He had tried to fade-step away, but being in the fade and all, it hadn't exactly worked. From there things were fuzzy, and he told as much to the advisors. How he managed to get past the nightmare creature was beyond him.

"I think I owe it to luck that I'm standing here," finished Ëonwë.

"I only wonder, could it really have been Divine Justinia you saw in the fade?" Leliana had a distant look in her eyes.

"I don't think we'll ever know now," said Ëonwë. Truthfully, he thought it could have been the Divine, or what was left of her spirit, but it could have just as easily been another spirit, who, like Cole, had taken the shape of the person it had tried to comfort.

"Your safe now, and on the mend. That's all that matters. We can debate if it was truly the Divine or not at a later date. Inquisitor," Cullen nodded to him, and took his leave.

Ëonwë was grateful. He was feeling all kinds of tired. Barely concealing a groan, Ëonwë stood slowly from the chair, trying to stretch out his stiff limbs without aggravating his wounds. He turned to go, but before he could leave Leliana's voice stopped him.

"Inquisitor, I believe I have something for you."

Ëonwë turned. Leliana was holding a small leather pouch. She gave it to him and Ëonwë curiously peeked inside, wondering what it could be. Inside was the amulet. Dorian's amulet. His dratted lineage. Ëonwë had almost forgotten their row in the market and his subsequent words to one of Leliana's spies in Val Royeux.

"Thank you."

With the pouch weighing heavily in his pocket, Ëonwë retired to his room with a lot on his mind. One of the healers found him just after he'd managed to drift to sleep. Back to the infirmary he went, but not before stashing the pouch in one of the drawers in his desk.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all, this here is a work of stress relief during the busiest semester of my Uni carrer. For those of you who might be just starting with post-secondary DO NOT PUT ALL YOUR 400LVL REQUIREMENTS IN ONE SEMESTER!!!
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed meeting Ëonwë Lavellan.


End file.
